


How To with Captain Michael Quinn

by Cody_Helene



Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Genre: ALLEN IN A T-SHIRT, First Kiss, Gay Panic, I don't like cheating, I love Mimi too much, I wasn't expecting pet names but, Idk this is only the first chapter, M/M, Michael teaches Allen how to fight, Michael's screwed, Minor Violence, More tags to be added, No cheating, Panic Attacks, Pet Names, Proud puppy Allen, and I love it, midnight visits, oh damn, once again, or more like 3 am, there will never be cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-10-28 22:16:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17795759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cody_Helene/pseuds/Cody_Helene
Summary: Welcome to How To with Captain Michael Quinn.Captain Quinn can teach you a lot of things — how to throw a punch, how to shoot a gun, how to fly a plane — one thing he can't teach you is hownotto fall in love with one Doctor Allen Hynek; he's already there and there's nothing he can do about it.All hecando is try and stay alive as he teaches Hynek how to fight, and lord, is that difficult when it seems Allen always needs... hands-on help.-or-Michael teaches Allen how to fight since they keep getting caught up in life-threatening situations. The only problems are that it involves lots of touching, Allennotin business casual dress, and Michael's struggling self-control.





	1. How to Throw a Punch

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome all!  
> Before we start _massive_ shout out to the one and only Brahe, (Tumblr: @jamesttiberius) for not only letting me steal her idea and for beta-ing this fic for me. She's a dream.  
> Not much else to say except that I'm not normally one for multi-chapter fics when they're still in progress because I'm afraid they'll be discontinued but, my dudes, I'm too in love with this idea to stop writing it  
>  _However,_ if I ever do stop writing it, feel free to spam me @Cody-Helene on tumblr  
> Anyway, enjoy!!!  
> -Cody Helene

When Michael entered the room, Allen was already there in shorts and a fitted t-shirt, a shockingly stark contrast to his normal attire. And, _god,_ he was not prepared for this, though, admittedly he should have been. What else would Allen be dressed in when Michael taught him how to fight — slacks and a pressed button-up?  


Thinking back on it, Michael realized that was _exactly_ what he had been expecting.  


But looking at Allen then, dressed in a laid-back, comfortable way, the realization hit him like a truck. He, Captain Michael Quinn of the United States’ Air-force, _World War II Vet,_ might not be able to handle this mission. Not with Allen looking like that. Not with the level of physical contact that the following training sessions were going to require. Michael gave himself one day, _maybe_ , before he blew his cover and gave his feelings for Allen away.  


_Fuck,_ Michael thought to himself.  


He was starting to regret his willingness to teach Allen. They would have been fine going on as they had before. Michael would have been enough to protect Allen.  


But then Michael thought back to all of their time together.  


Since the beginning, he wasn’t sure if there had one case when they hadn’t been threatened at least once; be it with bats, or fists, or guns. And, yeah, maybe these training sessions would be the death of him, and, yeah, maybe Michael would miss having Allen depend on _him_ for protection, miss Allen having a need for him to be there… But at least Allen could be safe if Michael did this, even if it drove him insane.  


Allen’s safety meant more to Michael than his own sanity, that’s all it came down to.  


So, even if Allen was looking like _that,_ salt and pepper hair fluffy and loose from any fixing paste, Michael was going to do this. He was going to teach Allen how to hold his own.  


“Doc!” Michael said, finally through with his mental battle and ready to make Allen aware of his presence.  


Allen shot up and turned to look at Michael.  


It was then that Michael saw that, even though Allen was dressed laidback and relaxed like, he was jittery beyond belief. Hands shaking, one leg bouncing beneath him and…  


“Allen,” Michael couldn’t decide if he wanted to smile or roll his eyes at how entirely _Allen_ the image in front of him was. “Allen, are those loafers?” Michael couldn’t help it, he let out a laugh. But then Allen blushed and Michael couldn’t breathe let alone laugh.  


_Holy hell, how can a man be so adorable and sexy at the same time?_ Michael asked himself, panicking slightly.  


“Um,” Allen was watching his feet, which was fine with Michael. So long as he wasn’t watching Michael struggling to complete _normal human actions,_ like blinking and breathing. “I don’t own any Keds.”  


Michael nodded at that, looking down to his own heavy combat boots. _Not shoes to wear starting out,_ he decided.  


Michael’s first few weeks of Basic were hell because of those things. It had taken him three weeks to grow used to them weighing down his feet.  


“No problem, Doc, was planning on having you go barefoot anyway.” No, he wasn’t, but Allen still looked mortified at his chosen footwear, so Michael decided to cut him a little slack.  


Michael set his heavy bag on the bench Allen had been sitting on, and sat down to unlace his boots.  


Setting his bag down had been a relief. Not because of its weight, but because of what it implied; because it reminded him that, after this brief reprieve of time spent with Allen, he would have to get back to work. Michael was not looking forward to dressing up in full kit and heading back to the office. Michael would much rather stay tangled up with Allen on the mats…  


An image popped into Michael’s head of him laying on the mat, Allen pinned beneath him, both of them breathing hard and-  


_Fuck. Get out of your head,_ Michael told himself, shaking himself to clear his mind.  


He hadn’t even had Allen in a proper wrestling pin.  


_You’re not even teaching Allen to wrestle._  


“Captain?” Allen’s voice broke through the fog in his head. “Are you okay?”  


_Shit._ Michael had had his boots off for at least two minutes, and he had just been sitting there, hunched over, daydreaming about pinning Allen Hynek to the ground and-  


“Yes, sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Just a bit caught up in my head today.” Michael smiled, it was hard not to smile at Allen when he was looking all worried over Michael’s sake.  


“Ready to start?”  


*****

They were about fifteen minutes in when Michael realized that he was going to have a heart attack. Cause of death ー Dr. Allen Hynek.  


They had started out on the punching bag. Allen, already knowing how to throw a relatively solid punch, needed a little bit of help on his stance and rotation. Michael had tried to teach him just by example ー stepping up to the bag himself and landing a few solid punches ー but Allen being an academic, taught to ask questions and reach for perfection, wanted to be absolutely certain he was doing everything right.  


Michael tried to guide him from a distance one last time: _‘make sure you rotate your wrist so your palm is down for the jab’; ‘Allen, you shouldn’t be rotating your front foot at all.’_  


“Okay, go,” Michael says after explaining to Allen that he needs to keep his elbow bent slightly on the jab to not hurt himself. Michael watches, eyes traveling Allen’s body as his stance shifts and he executes a simple 1-2 jab-hook sequence. Michael sighs slightly as he watches Allen overextend the jab again, and then throw the hook before his left hand his back to protect his face.  


“Don’t start the hook too early, gotta keep that pretty face covered at all times, Doc.” And well, that slipped out. Michael found himself wishing that someone would punch him in the face, even if the technique was as botched as Allen’s. A punch to the face was a punch to the face. Michael tried to move on quickly.  


“Alright, let’s try it this way.” Michael muttered, stepping up behind Allen. His hands slid over Allen’s shoulders slowly. Allen jumped and dropped his stance, hands sinking to his sides. Michael pressed even closer, his chest against Allen’s back, his chin slightly hooked over Allen’s shoulder.  


“Never drop your guard, protect your head. I don't have time to go out and find another astrophysicist, Blue Book would be DOA without that brain of yours.” And hell, being that close to Allen messed with his head. Michael’s self-control was plummeting.  


Michael took Allen’s left hand in his own and brought it up till it was covering the bottom half of Allen’s face, Allen’s right hand following on its own.  


“I don’t know what the point of this is,” Allen murmured ー he didn’t need to yell, Michael’s ear was right next to his mouth. “I just keep making new mistakes each time.”  


“No, Doc, you keep making the same mistakes over and over again.” Allen deflated slightly beneath him, sinking backward into Michael’s chest slightly. “Luckily, they’re easy to fix,” Michael whispered into Allen’s ear, trying to reassure him.  


“I don’t see why I need to learn how to fight, though.” Allen turned his head to look at Michael, barely a few inches separating their faces. “That’s what I have you for.”  


A smile hitched itself to Michael’s mouth at Allen’s teasing tone, but he hid it behind a playful glare.  


“I can’t do much to protect you if you keep running off on your own like you have been.” Allen had been developing the habit for months, ever since the first time he followed his odd, hated friend into an abandoned theme park.  


“I won't leave your side again if we can stop.” And… Well, that was a tantalizing offer, having Allen glued to his side at all times, but Michael shook his head.  


“It’s easy Allen, think of it this way; there’s a rubber band connecting your left-hand-” Michael shook Allen’s left hand slightly, moving it back to its proper placement ー it had drifted down as they were talking, their joined hands resting easily against Allen’s chest. Michael released his hand and tapped Allen’s chin lightly. “-to your chin.”  


“Jab,” Michael directed him with a hand now on Allen’s elbow, making sure he doesn’t overextend again. “Snap back.” Allen’s hand returned to guard.  


“Good. Again.” Michael waited until Allen’s arm was outstretched, fist against the punching bag. “Pause.” Allen did. “Look at your hand, look at its positioning.”  


“Palm down…” Allen muttered to himself when he saw his hand placed properly against the punching bag.  


“Exactly, you were just over-thinking it, Doc.” There was a smile on Michael’s face, bright and proud. “Pull back,” he whispered, lips centimeters away from Allen’s ear.  


“It feels awkward just to leave it there,” Allen stated once his hand was back to guard his face.  


“Right-hook.” Michael knew just what Allen was talking about, a jab alone did feel awkward, wrong, aborted. “Lead by rotating your shoulders, twist your back foot, use it as a driving force.”  


Allen did as he said, movements flowing easily, naturally almost. He wobbled slightly and Michael steadied him.  


“Keep your balance, rotate back.” Michael felt the muscles bunch and relax under Allen’s shirt as he returned to his basic stance; it was an addicting feeling. “Repeat.”  


Michael watched mostly as Allen continued to repeat the combo, fixing small mistakes here and there, still pressed to Allen’s back. Eventually, Michael forced himself to step away. He was supposed to be teaching, after all, not spending his time attached to Allen like a leach, no matter how right it felt to have Allen in his arms. He felt cold without Allen in front of him.  


Allen paused momentarily when he backed off and glanced at Michael. Michael waved at him to continue. As he watched, Allen’s hips drew his attention. He watched as they rose with each punch, then sighed.  


_I do_ not _need this,_ Michael thought as he approached Allen again. Allen paused and this time Michael let him, watched as Allen turned toward him.  


“Your technique is almost perfect,” Michael stated, already thinking about how he could fix Allen’s latest mistake. Allen raised an eyebrow.  


“Almost,” he said, slightly unbelieving. Michael laughed.  


“Don’t get cocky now, Doc, _almost_.” Allen waited patiently. “You’re lifting your hips.”  


“Lifting my hips?” Michael didn’t know how to explain it, didn’t really know how to counter it since he’d never had to before.  


“It’s like,” Michael paused for a moment, “you're subconsciously reaching for the landing, trying to get more power behind your punch. It throws off your balance.” Michael turned Allen back to the bag and placed his hands on his hips, maneuvering him back to his place.  


“Get into your stance.” Michael watched as Allen brought up his hands and bent his knees slightly, carefully placing his feet in their proper positions. “Okay, jab.”  


As Allen threw a jab Michael kept his hands on Allen’s hips, his chest once again pressed against Allen’s back, and found he was right. Allen’s hips were moving far too much.  


“Only your upper body should move, below your waist should stay relatively still. Again.” This time when Allen threw his punch, Michael held his hips in place, grip tightening as Allen’s weight shifted. The t-shirt under his hands bunched up slightly. Michael ignored it.  


“Feel that?” He was whispering again, it was hard not to with Allen so close. “How much more balance and power you have this way?” Allen cleared his throat and nodded in response, a light blush traveling up his neck.  


_He must be starting to overheat,_ Michael told himself. 

“One more time, then we’ll take a water break.” Allen nodded again and did as he said, hips staying more or less motionless in Michael’s hands.  


*****

The water break lasted too long. It was Michael’s fault really, he had gotten Allen talking about different kinds of radiation and their effects on the human body; how they got on that subject he doesn't know, but apparently, Allen could talk forever about it. Michael never liked to interrupt Allen when he was talking science. Even if he didn’t understand it completely, Michael liked to listen to Allen talk about it. He made it interesting, compelling, in a way Michael never could, even with his most exciting battle stories.  


The way Allen lit up when he talking was just a bonus.  


About thirty minutes after their break started Michael realized he had about twenty-five minutes before he had to get ready to get back to work. He pushed off of the bench he had been straddling as he watched Allen pace slightly, cutting him off mid-sentence.  


“It’s incredible, really, alpha rays aren’t exceedingly harmful unless ingested, but gamma, on the other hand-”  


“Doc, as much as I love to hear you ramble, we should try and squeeze out a few more minutes of practice this morning.” Allen looked at the clock on the wall, and he looked surprised when he read the time.  


“People normally stop me after the first ten minutes…” Michael laughed.  


“Come on, let’s get back at it.” Allen nodded and followed Michael out of the locker room. Michael grabbed a pair of punching mitts on the way out.  


“Alright, this is simple,” Michael said standing in front of Allen, a padded oval strapped to each hand. He held his hands before his chest. “Jab left, hook right, then I’m going to swing at you, so duck.”  


Michael almost laughed at the look on Allen’s face, reaching forward to playfully smack it with his padded hand.  


“I’ll go slow, you’ll know when it’s coming. All you have to do is duck. Hopefully, before we end I can get you started on advancing.” Allen still looked hesitant. “Jab, hook, duck. Don’t lift your hips.”  


Finally, Allen nodded and settled into his stance, Michael smiled.  


“Go.” The first jab landed.  


By ten minutes in Allen had gotten the hang of it. He had also gotten a few swats to the head for forgetting to duck, but he didn’t seem too perturbed by that.  


Michael took his first step backward, trying to encourage Allen to advance without directly telling him to. He wasn’t surprised when Allen did.  


“Good. Advance between punches or while ducking, never when you’re throwing a punch or when you’re off balance.”  


They continued on, Michael giving Allen new tasks ー _‘Try blocking instead of ducking, good’_ or _‘block with your left, throw a hook towards my ribs with your right. Not too hard, Doc, I’m not wearing pads.’_ Michael was pretty sure he’d have a few new bruises, but it was his own fault.  


Michael liked to see Allen in action, focused on his task.  


Allen watched Michael’s torso for a warning on swings, just like Michael had suggested once the same _jab, hook, duck_ pattern had grown boring. Michael was, of course, exaggerating his movements so that Allen knew what to look out for, but Michael was still impressed when Allen had caught on so quickly.  


The man was a natural.  


Twenty-five minutes passed quickly, though Michael was surprised with how far they had gotten. He hadn’t been planning on starting Allen on anticipating Michael’s moves for a long time yet.  


“Alright, I think we’re done for the day,” Michael stated after a glance at the clock. Both men were slightly winded. “Good work, we got further than I thought we would.”  


Allen looked doubtful but he smiled and nodded. Michael slid off the mitts and gave him a lingering pat on the back, then went to go through the process of putting on his uniform.  


*****


	2. How to Spar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Chapter says it all...  
> And yeah, Michael totally knows how to throw a knife.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow an actual chapter two??? I hope y'all enjoy ;)  
> Also I never learned how to hide what you're going to do next while fighting so I kinda took a shot in the dark...  
> Leave a comment if you want!  
> 
> 
> Thanks again Brahe for betaing!!!  
>  -Cody Helene  
> 

The days went on like that. Michael taught Allen how to block a hit to the abdomen, how to use your opponent’s force against him — Allen liked that one, liked doing the calculations — taught him how to throw a perfect uppercut.  


Each day started with Michael seeing Allen, making him wonder how he could possibly survive another day of this, and ended with Michael telling Allen he had done a good job before getting into full kit and heading off to work.  


The end was arguably the worst part of his day.  


And, sure, he could blame that on having to go back to work. But Michael was pretty sure it was parting from Allen that he hated the most.  


There were times when he let their two hours together slip by him without notice, but more often than not he was constantly aware of everything. The tick of the clock, the weight of each punch Allen threw, the press of Allen’s body against his own.  


That last one was hard not to pay attention to and happened so often Michael was almost starting to question if Allen purposefully put them in positions where Michael’s hands would have to roam all over Allen’s body. Almost.  


But then he remembers that Allen has been married in the past. Twice.  


He was now divorced, twice, but that didn’t change the fact that Michael was sure Allen was definitely not into men. Besides, he deserved someone better than Michael, someone who understood what he was talking about all the time, someone who could contribute to the conversation and not just listen.  


Allen deserved everything.  


Michael shook himself as he entered the locker room on the fifth day to see Allen waiting for him, just like he had the days before.  


He was jumpy again, but this time not with nervous energy. No, this time Allen was excited. Michael sighed.  


The day before he had told Allen that he had been progressing well and that they could spar in their next lesson. Michael didn’t realize until the words were out of his mouth that that would mean he had to _actually hit_ Allen and that, if he didn't get his blocks up fast enough, there was also the possibility of _hurting_ Allen. Neither of which he wanted to do.  


Michael had gone home that night and decided that they would not, in fact, be sparring the next day, or the day after, or ever really, because he already couldn’t stand the possibility of Allen getting hurt on his watch, never mind at his hand. But as he stood there and looked at Allen, soft, and smiling, and bursting at the seams with excitement…  


Maybe they would be sparring after all.  


“What are you so excited about?” Michael asked tone teasing as he hid his own smile by leaning down to unlace his boots. Allen was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.  


“Are we still sparring today?” Allen seemed hesitant, despite his excitement, like he was afraid Michael had changed his mind. Which, to be fair, wasn’t a completely unfounded fear. Not since, minutes before, Michael was all ready to put off sparring until — well — forever. But then he had taken one glance at Allen and… Well, let’s put it this way: Michael’s military buddies had been searching for his soft spot for ages, the place they could push him just so to get him distracted or out of his mind enough that they could get the upper hand when they sparred or competed in any way; they never had because Michael didn’t have a soft spot, he’d made sure of it. Until now, apparently.  


If Michael’s buddies could see him here... They wouldn’t hesitate to use Allen against him.  


Michael shook his head and looked up to see Allen’s excitement drop slightly, thinking that that had been a no from Michael.  


“‘Course we are, Doc,” he said, hiding his dread behind a teasing smile. “Gotta see if you can get those blocks up fast enough.” The Doctor’s excitement visibly came back in full force.  


“Now, let’s get you into some pads.”  


*****

Michael had to admit, he may have overdone it a bit with the pads. Allen stood in the middle of the room, excitement slightly weighed down by the new material on his body, slightly resembling a marshmallow.  


“I don’t see how you expect me to move in all of this,” Allen called through a cloth helmet on his head, voice muffled. Michael held in a chuckle.  


“Yeah, that might be an issue.” Michael thought on it for a moment before sighing. “Take off the shin guards, the thigh guards, and the upper arm padding. You’re stuck with the body padding, arm wraps, and helmet though.” Allen muttered something he couldn’t make out through the cloth covering his face, but Michael assumed it was a snarky complaint and ignored it. He turned away to find boxing gloves.  


When Michael turned back he had no chance of hiding the laugh that sprung from him. Allen was standing there, attempting to bend at the waist to undo the straps of his leg padding, but all the excess material on his torso was making it impossible. He looked up as Michael laughed, a slight pout on his face.  


“You got me into this, Michael,” Allen said, whining slightly with the pout still on his face. “I think I need a hand getting out.” Michael shook his head, laughed lessening into a slight chuckle.  


“Alright, Doc, don’t panic or anything, ” he said walking toward Allen, squatting down in front of him.  


Michael easily got the calf padding off, skilling fingers working quickly. The movement of his hands stuttered slightly when he began the reach for the thigh buckles that were placed on the top and bottom of the pads where the edges met on the inside of Allen’s legs. Michael took a deep breath.  


_Quick and easy._ He told himself. His hands shook slightly as he struggled with the first buckle; the pads were old — they probably should have been replaced a year or so before — so the fabric of the strap was frayed, causing the metal prong to catch and refuse to release. Eventually, Michael got the prong free and moved his gaze to the top buckle to see it in worse condition.  


_If there is a God,_ Michael thought to himself, _I’m pretty sure he hates me._  


Michael’s fingers brushed along Allen's thigh as he fiddled with the buckle. Michael tried to ignore the thin layer of fabric that barely separated his skin from Allen’s.  


Minutes had gone by when Michael’s legs began to ache. He released the buckle with a growl and dropped to his knees instead. He ran his hand through his hair watching Allen’s legs as he shifted his weight slightly from foot to foot. Michael looked up at him to see a soft blush covering the Doc’s face. Michael tilted his head, messed hair flopping slightly into his face.  


“Alright, Doc?” Michael asked from his place on the floor, slightly concerned. Allen nodded.  


“Yeah,” Allen’s voice came out slightly rough, he cleared his throat. “Yes, sorry, I’m fine. Is the buckle giving you trouble?” Michael hummed in confirmation.  


“I’m starting to consider taking a knife to it…” Michael smirked up at Allen when a slightly panicked look crossed his face. “Afraid of a little knife, Doc?” he teased. Allen shook his head a little too energetically.  


“No, not at all.” Michael hummed again at Allen’s assertion. He was pretty sure the smile that was on his face could be classified as devious.  


“Maybe I’ll teach you how to throw one, then.” Michael reached for the buckle, scooching a little closer on the floor to see if he could get a better look at whatever was causing him troubles. He heard Allen’s breath catch slightly and cast one last concerned glace upwards before focusing entirely on the buckle. There was silence for a short moment before cleared his throat again.  


“You know how to throw a knife.” His voice still sounded slightly clouded. Michael nodded pulling at the fabric of the strap.  


_Could I rip this? Maybe…_ He gripped the strap on either side of the buckle, but Allen’s voice distracted him again before he could pull.  


“They teach you that in the Air Force?” The question made Michael chuckle slightly. There was no room in war for anything besides the most bloody and effective methods of killing. Definitely not knife throwing.  


“No, but-” Michael’s grip tightened and he yanked, hearing the seams rip. “-we did _occasionally_ have some downtime, a buddy taught me.”  


Michael pulled the pad loose and held it in the air next to his head, smiling triumphantly up at Allen. The man was already looking down at him, mouth slightly ajar, eyes wide. Michael watched his throat work as he swallowed. His smile broadened as he took it in — it wasn’t often he saw the Doc speechless.  


His hands moved to the remaining pad, not even bothering to fuss with the buckle, Michael grabbed the straps and pulled roughly, his eyes staying on Allen’s face. The air began to grow heavy.  


Allen closed his mouth and broke their eye contact, looking to the broken pad that now lay next to Michael.  


“Am I going to have to pay to replace that?” Michael shook his head, drawing Allen’s eye back to him just as he ripped the last strap.  


Michael pushed himself off his knees and stood, much closer to Allen then he expected or was appropriate. He didn’t step away.  


The air remained heavy as Allen bit his lip and Michael tried not to look, he really did but… Could you blame him if his eyes slid down to see the pink flesh caught between Allen’s teeth?  


“Needed new pads anyway.” Michael reached out and gently placed his thumb on Allen’s bottom lip, just under his teeth, pulling it loose, before he realized what he was doing. He pulled his hand back quickly and took a small step back to put some distance between them.  


_Fuck. God really must hate me,_ Michael thought, searching for something to say. Allen beat him to it, however.  


“Well,” Allen cleared his throat one more time; a blush was on his face, even more intense than earlier. “Ready to spar?”  


Michael never thought he’d be excited at the thought of hitting Allen, but at that moment, he was willing to do anything if it cut the tension. He nodded and turned to grab the gloves he’d pulled out, tossing a pair to Allen. The Captain could feel his friend's intense gaze on him as he strapped on some body padding of his own; he ignored the feeling of it burning into his back.  


“Alright Doc, you ready to give this a try?” Michael wasn’t, that much was for sure. Allen’s only answer was him dropping into his fighting stance and Michael couldn’t help but smile. No matter how much he was dreading this, he had to admit that Allen looked cute all padded up with a helmet on his head, buzzing with energy. Like a kid playing war. The thought warmed Michael slightly.  


“Set?” Michael asked also dropping into stance. Allen nodded and advanced.  


Michael was surprised at the quickness and precision of Allen’s strikes. He blocked the first hit, a jab to his jaw, barely catching the following right hook that was aimed at his ribs. Allen wasn’t playing around, Michael learned quickly, it was a surprise. Normally, starting off, a sparer would be more cautious, they definitely wouldn’t throw a punch to the face.  


But not Allen.  


No, Allen — the shy, softspoken, introvert — was coming at him, no holds barred.  


_And with good technique too._ Michael thought, impressed.  


“Good, Allen,” Michael praised getting used to the quick pace. “Don’t give away your next move,” he reminded Allen, landing a quick, soft tap on Allen’s side that had been left unguarded as he threw another hook.  


He had shown Allen a few days earlier how to mask his intentions. A memory flashed through his mind, Michael’s hands on Allen’s waist, sliding up and down his sides as he held him steady, keeping him from the unnecessary rotation that would indicate his next hit…  


A punch landed on Michael’s ribs, drawing him back to the present, he grunted but took it in his stride, blocking the next punch and throwing a few of his own, just slow enough for Allen to catch.  


“Come on, Michael, I can tell you’re going easy on me,” Allen said, voice slightly breathless. He dodged Michael’s attempted uppercut, Michael smiled when Allen didn’t try and block it like he had tried to do starting out. “How am I supposed to be ready to fight someone if you go easy on me?”  


Michael shifted to dodge another jab causing Allen to overextend slightly when he didn’t meet the resistance he had been expecting. Michael swung around his back and gave him a little shove, Allen went easily, stumbling forward.  


“Keep your balance, Allen,” Michael said avoiding answering Allen’s earlier question. He had been right, of course, Allen usually was, Michael wouldn’t know if the other man was ready for a fight if he held back. “Never let the other guy get behind you.”  


Allen regained his balance and spun around to face Michael again, but he didn’t attack again like Michael had been expecting. Michael waited but no advance came. Allen was waiting for him to make the first move.  


_Clever._ Michael thought. When Michael was sparing in basic if he ever thought someone was going easy on him he would have gotten angry, pushed them until they were forced to pick up their effort. He never would have thought to wait them out to make them go on attack. Michael was impressed, but then again, it wasn’t unlike the Doctor to actually use his brain and find ways around things that Michael himself wouldn’t have come up with.  
  
Michael tried to wait him out a little longer then huffed, not having the patience to see how long it would take. He threw a few punches in quick succession, closer to the way he would with his army buddies than the way he had been minutes before. _Jab, uppercut, cross…_  


Allen caught the jab, jumping away from the uppercut. He missed the cross and the punch landed squarely on his padded jaw, his head snapped to the right and- Shit, Michael thought.  


“Fuck, Allen are you okay?” Michael asked, dropping his guard, which, admittedly, he should have known better. Allen came back with a solid hook into Michael’s side, knocking the wind from his lungs. Michael wheezed slightly, crouching over and holding his stomach.  


“Nice one, Doc.” Michael looked up to see Allen smiling but there was a concerned light to his eyes. “I’m okay,” he said pushing up off his knees.  


“You’re sure you’re alright?” Allen asked when Michael still hadn’t caught his breath.  


“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Michael said placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing slightly. “But I think that's probably enough sparring for today. Go on, get out of your pads, and we’ll work on something else.” Allen nodded as he walked over to the storage cart and started struggling with his buckles.  


Michael joined him soon after to put his own padding back, a thought coming to mind.  


“That was a clean fight, Allen,” He said walking behind the other man to assist him with the buckles he couldn’t reach. The pad came off but Michael’s hands stayed on Allen’s back. Allen turned his head to catch Michael’s eye, pressing back into his hands in the process.  


“Your next opponent won’t be fighting clean, they’ll be vicious,” one of Michael’s hands moved to brush Allen’s hair from what the helmet had matted it to his forehead. “You’ll have to be too.” His voice lowered to a whisper.  


“Promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to stay alive. Anything.” Michael shouldn’t be making Allen promise this, he shouldn’t even be bringing it up, but… Well, Michael didn’t think he could handle life without the Doc in it, not anymore.  


“I promise,” came Allen’s whispered response.  


*****


	3. How to Patch Up an Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen gets hurt, Michael worries and blames everything on himself. What else is new?  
> 
> 
> Accidental pet names, that's what.  
> 
> 
> Beware slightly overprotective Michael and, once again, adorable Allen.   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know this has taken f o r e v e r and I'm _sorry okay?_ It needed a lot of work and thank god for @Brahe, because without her I think I'd be dead.  
> 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy, I think the next chapter may be last... Unless I can find a way to drag it out a little longer.   
> 
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments!  
> 
> 
> -Cody Helene :)

The concept of “ignore it and it will go away” apparently expired after midnight, because now it was 2 a.m. and the hesitant knocking on his front door had only grown to an incessant banging. Michael groaned as he pushed up off his back, placing his feet on the floor. He hadn’t even gotten around to turning the light off, hadn’t gotten anywhere close to falling asleep, he probably shouldn’t be so upset about the knocking that forced him to get up.   


He had, however, finally been able to lull his brain into a state of meditation, one deep enough to get Allen off his mind — a task that seemed to be getting harder and harder as the days passed by. Now, as he stretched and walked down the hallway, Michael couldn’t help but wonder would have happened if Allen had been asleep next to him. Would he have woken up, mumbling at Michael, telling him to get the door? Or would he just have rolled over, curled into to Michael’s side and fallen into a deeper slumber? Maybe he would have hushed Michael as he moved to stand and told him to go back to sleep, that Allen would get the door — all the while knowing that Michael would follow him out into the foyer anyway, not liking the idea of Allen opening the door in the middle of the night when god knows who could be on the other side.  


And who was on the other side of the door anyway, Michael wondered. None of Michael’s buddies were in town, not that they would have shown up at his place in the middle of the night even if they had been. The generals would have just called, expecting him to answer the phone no matter what. The only other person that Michael was in continuous contact was lately was Allen, and why would Allen be on his doorstep at two in the fucking morning.  


Michael left the chain lock in place as he cracked the front door, squinting to see a dark figure, head angled down, hat blocking his face, one arm clenched in front of him, shoulders drawn up to his ears. Michael would have known the figure anywhere, even if the ugly red tie hadn’t given him away.   


_“Allen?”_ Michael asked incredulously, the figure raised his head, a crack of light from the foyer falling over his face revealing- _Is that a black eye?_ Michael began to grow worried. Allen showing up at his doorstep at two in the morning was odd, but it wasn’t unthinkable — the Doctor had breakthroughs all the time, day or night, and yeah, normally they ended with a phone call between the two men at most, but a visit in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly that far of a reach.   


But if Allen was injured…   


Michael slammed the door shut, roughly sliding the chain loose and leaving it clanking against the door frame, then yanked the door open again, stepping out onto the stoop. He moved to the side so that he wasn’t casting a shadow on Allen’s face and placed a hand on his cheek, directing him to look up. The soft yellow light flooded his face and Michael winced, shifting Allen’s head to the left, and then to the right to see the rest of the damage. He couldn’t see it well, but well enough to be able to tell that it was bad.   


“What the hell happened, Allen?” Michael asked, anger slipping into his voice, not at Allen, of course, but at whoever did this to such a gentle, caring man. Allen glanced behind him as a car drove past the mouth of Michael’s street.   


“I would have gone to Mimi’s but I don’t want to scare her,” Allen whispered, not at all answering Michael’s question. His eyes found Michael’s again, and Michael stiffened when he saw a fearful glint in them. Michael looked to where the car had just been before it continued to drive on, past his street and past the next without so much as slowing. “I’m also not completely sure that they didn’t try to follow me.”   


The unsteadiness in his voice spurred Michael into action and he quickly spun to place himself between the street and Allen, softly pushing at him to get him to go inside. He kept an eye on the road as Allen stepped through the door, rushing in behind him just as he saw an older model Ford turning down his street, paint shining in the streetlights, headlights killed. He closed the door easily, not wanting the slam to draw any attention and turned off the foyer light, pressing Allen against the wall, away from the bubble glass that made up the area around his front door. Allen hissed lightly in pain but didn’t move to push Michael away.   


Michael may have been taking the situation a little too seriously, after all, it wasn’t as if whoever was in that car would see their silhouettes through the glass and come banging on Michael’s door, just as Allen had. Michael mentally kicked himself for not getting the door sooner, what would have happened if the car had gotten to Allen before Michael?   


_You fucking idiot, why would anybody be knocking on your door in the middle of the night if it weren’t a goddamn emergency?_ Michael chastised himself. What the hell had he been thinking?  


Michael heard the car pass outside, waiting a few moments before moving. Allen remained between him and the wall, the only remaining light coming from his bedroom and casting just enough of the shadow away for Michael to see Allen looking back at him, biting his lip, holding his breath. And, well, that was just unnecessary, Allen was obviously hurt badly, fainting didn’t need to be added onto the list of pains. Michael leaned a little closer.   


“Breath, Allen,” Michael told him, not daring to raise his voice above a whisper, once again an unnecessary precaution, but one Michael was taking nonetheless. The breath rushed out of Allen, and Michael could feel him relaxing against the wall, against Michael…   


_That’s long enough._ Michael told himself, forcing himself to pull away from Allen’s warm, slightly shaking body, and _god_ Michael wanted to stop the shaking. But he couldn’t — not in the ways he wanted to, at least. Not with petting, and hushing, and holding Allen close. Michael tumbled the deadbolt a little too roughly and slid the chain back into place.   


“Com’on Doc, let’s get a good look at you,” Michael said, directing Allen down the hallway towards the pool of light spilling through his bedroom door. Michael wanted Allen to be as safe as he could make him, and if that happened to included Michael’s bedroom it was because it was the furthest back room in his house, the furthest away from the street where danger could still lurk. Not because he was just dreaming of having Allen in his bed.  


Michael sat Allen down on the mattress, snagging the Doctor’s hat and tossing it onto his desk. Allen remained silent as Michael pushed his legs apart and stood between them, hands grasping Allen’s jaw and tilting his face up. Allen didn’t meet Michael’s eyes, just stared forward at where his eyes were even with Michael’s chest. Michael let him, he didn’t need to be looking into Allen’s blue eyes while they sat in a position like that.  


Michael’s hands framed Allen’s jaw, his thumb unconsciously stroking over his bruised cheekbone as he took in the damage.   


It wasn’t pretty, to say the least. His left eye was black, but Michael had seen that earlier, that wasn’t what drew his attention. The right side of his face was scratched up, nothing that couldn’t be fixed with antiseptic cream; his left cheekbone was bruised; his lip was busted; the part that really made Michael wince, though, was Allen’s right eye, which was almost swollen shut.  


“Let me guess, I should see the other guy?” Michael tried to joke while deciding what to tend to first. Allen finally met his eyes, a defensive air surrounding him.  


“I was holding my own just fine,” He spat, scrunching his nose then wincing as a result, “until the second guy showed up, that is.” Allen sighed folding in on himself and looking at the ground. Michael thought he looked like a dead star, finally giving in and collapsing. “I know, this is what you’ve been training me for, I should have been able to defend myself-” Michael’s head was swimming, Allen thought that he should have been able to take on two grown men in the dark after, what, two weeks of learning the basics of fighting?   


“No, Allen,” He cut the Doctor off, dropping into a squat so that he could catch Allen’s eye again. Michael was reminded of the week before when they had been in a similar position, except then Allen had been okay and Michael had been worried about his own self-control, not Allen’s health. “I don’t expect you to be able to fight off two, apparently very _motivated_ men, who, probably, have been in multiple brawls before.” Allen glanced up again, he looked like he was about to cry, his lip trembled slightly.   


“I was just trying to get a better view of the stars, tonight’s the opposition of Mars. I can’t see it well enough from my new apartment, I hadn’t realized I’d crossed onto their property,” Allen whispered, wiping at his left eye and wincing at the rough pressure. Michael batted his hand away, replacing it with the careful touch of his own. “I tried to tell the first man that when he appeared and started to yell at me, tried to explain myself, but he wouldn’t listen,” Michael caught another tear as it slipped onto Allen’s cheek, Allen shivered slightly with the stroke of his thumb, he didn’t wince, though, and Michael counted that as a win. “Just hit me.” Michael clenched his teeth, but he didn’t speak, didn’t walk out and find the car with its headlights out, instead he moved his other hand to softly stroke just above Allen’s knee in a calming manner.  


“I hit back, like you taught me too, we fought for a bit before his buddy showed up — held me still while the first guy laid into me…” Allen licked at the cut on his lip then looked up, eyes peering into Michael’s, and Michael’s heart broke at the fear he saw in them. “I think they would have killed me if their dog hadn’t started barking at something beyond the trees.” Michael shot up, dropping onto the bed beside Allen and pulling him into his arms. Allen melted into him as Michael rocked them slowly, Allen’s tears began to fall faster.   


“You did a good job, Allen,” Michael hushed him, trying to get the crying to stop, “such a good job. So glad you’re okay, babe.” Neither man realized the pet name as it slipped from Michael’s lips. As he continued to mummer little nothings to Allen, Michael’s head was going a mile a minute.   


_Why the fuck didn’t you teach him how to break a hold yet?_ Michael thought to himself. _He could have died tonight and it would have been your damn fault. If he hadn't have gotten away…_ Michael’s thoughts stopped dead.   


“How’d you get away?” Maybe he shouldn’t ask, at least not right then, but he was curious.   


“Stomped on the foot of the guy holding me and ran,” Allen told him, stuttering it out between breaths, but at least the tears had stopped. “I had to leave my telescope behind though,” His chest started to heave like he would start to cry again any minute, “it was my favorite telescope too…”   


“I’ll go and get it for you tomorrow, Allen,” The words slipped out before Michael knew what he was saying, but he couldn’t regret it once he saw Allen smile up at him, still sad but hopeful at least. “Promise.” Michael gave Allen a quick squeeze causing the Doctor to bite his lip, trying to hold in a yelp. Michael pulled back quickly, not wanting to hurt him more. “Where’s it hurt?” He asked, eyes scanning while his hands sat firmly clenched in this lap. Allen rubbed lightly at his left shoulder.   


“I think I dislocated it.” He muttered quietly as if he didn’t actually want Michael to hear. But Michael did. He stood up and walked to get Allen’s hat.   


“Come on, we’re going to the hospital,” Michael told him, trying not to leave any room for argument, and apparently failing.  


“Michael, I don’t want to go back out there, I- what if they come back,” And Michael couldn’t fight that, not with the fear that laced Allen’s voice. He fiddled with the hat in his hands. He sighed.  


‘I’ve set a shoulder before,” Michael told him hesitantly, “A buddy of mine when we were passed enemy lines.” Allen looked hopefully up at him, still perched on the bed. “It’ll hurt,” Michael warned, “bad.” But Allen held his chin high.   


“It wouldn’t hurt any less if a doctor did it.” He argued and, well, that wasn’t exactly true, but Michael decided to go with it, knowing Allen wouldn’t change his mind.  


“Okay,” Michael said, walking out of the bedroom. He strode to the kitchen and opened his freezer pulling out the ice trays. He slipped a little over half of the ice into an ice bag and bundled the rest up in a cloth, then he found his first aid kit and filled a cup at the tap before returning to his bedroom to see Allen still sitting on his bed, albeit confusedly. “Shirt off,” Michael ordered him, placing his supplies on his desk and opening the kit. He heard shuffling behind him, trying his best to ignore the fact that Allen was shirtless in his bed, he surveyed his kit. “You should be glad I’m so well stocked, god knows why I have half of this stuff.” He said over his shoulder pulling out some pain medication. He turned and handed Allen the pills and the water, movements stuttering slightly when his eyes found Allen sitting there, bruised and broken. “Mother of god, Allen,” he muttered, looking at the bruises that covered Allen’s torso and the deep purple color of his shoulder, “we’re going to need a lot more ice. Take those.” Allen swallowed the pills.  


“We’re gonna ice your shoulder, see if we can numb it a bit.” Michael told him, handing him the smaller bundle of ice. “Hold this to your eye,” Allen lifted it to his face, then paused obviously trying to decide which eye Michael meant, Michael rolled his eyes. “The swollen one, right side.” He told Allen, slowly easing the second pack onto Allen’s shoulder. Allen hissed, squirming away from the ice pack, Michael let him, trying again once he had settled. He placed a hand on Allen’s bare chest, steadying him as Michael rested it on his shoulder again, this time, Allen remained still. “Fifteen should do it, same with the eye, fifteen on, twenty off, repeat.” Allen nodded at his words, but they both knew Michael was just rambling to distract them at this point, Allen from the pain, Michael from the feeling of bare skin beneath his palm.  


Fifteen minutes passed slowly, but eventually, Michael pulled away.   


“Let me see the eye.”   


Allen dropped his hand revealing his right eye. The swelling had gone down slightly, the bruising intensified. Michael nodded and took both ice packs back to the freezer, hopefully, they would be able to get another use out of them.   


“Okay, Doc,” Michael said rubbing his hands together, trying to restore their warmth, “tell me about the opposition of Mars.”   


Allen looked at him skeptically, as if he knew what Michael was trying to do, he probably did too but began to talk anyway. Michael didn’t really listen, just waited until he heard the passion in Allen’s voice intensify, hands placed ready on Allen’s should and side.  


“You know, it’s what got me into astronomy as a kid,” were the last words Allen said before Michael suddenly leaned his weight into him, angling Allen’s arm properly and giving it a shove. There was a sickening pop and Allen sucked in a breath. _“Fuck!”_ Allen yelped and Michael looked at him, surprised. He’d never heard the other man say that word before, he couldn’t help but snort, earning a glare from Allen. Michael stood.  


“Don’t move.” He told Allen, pointing at him warningly before walking to retrieve one of the ice packs. He grabbed the sling that was sitting on his desk as he passed it on the way back. He had gotten it after they had crashed the plane on their first mission, he didn’t know why he kept it, but he was glad he did then. He dropped the ice pack onto the bed and gently maneuvered Allen’s arm into the correct position before slipping the sling under it, fastening the strap around his shoulder. “Good,” Michael mumbled, mostly to himself, he grabbed Allen’s free hand and placed the ice pack in it. “On your shoulder.” he waited until Allen did as he said before leaving the room again, walking into the bathroom and wetting a washcloth with warm water.   


_“You forgot a bowl, idiot,”_ Michael told himself, then he shrugged, there weren’t any cuts to clean anyway. He stopped in the doorway and stared at Allen, Allen looked back at him.  


“You’re good at this,” Allen told him just as Michael said, “Damn, we should have put your shirt back on before the sling…” Allen let out a startled laugh and glanced down at the sling.  


“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it,” Allen suggested, Michael nodded with a quiet chuckle and crossed the room to the desk again. He grabbed the antiseptic cream and some bruise cream that he didn’t know he had, or if it worked for that matter.   


“Alright, just gotta make sure there’s no bark or dirt in the scratches, shouldn’t be, none of them seem to be open, but just in case…” Michael said, mostly to himself again, and stepped back between Allen’s legs. He wiped carefully at Allen’s face trying his best to avoid swollen or bruised skin and paying close attention to the cut on his lip, leaning in closer to get a better look as he dabbed at it. His eyes left Allen’s lips, traveling to Allen’s eyes instead, to see Allen staring intensely back at him and, oh, they were really close.   


_You could kiss him,_ He thought to himself, _he wouldn’t stop you and you know it._ His hand paused at its work as he considered his options, and his eyes momentarily flicked to the clock on his bedside table. _3:30 a.m._  


“Oh!” He said pulling away. “It’s been twenty minutes, I’ll be right back.” Michael backed out of the room slowly, keeping his eyes on Allen until he hit the door frame. As he was turning around, he saw something akin to disappointment pass over Allen’s face.   


*****

In the kitchen, Michael braced himself over the sink, hands gripping to tightly at the lip of the basin, knuckles tinting white. 

He had almost kissed Allen, had convinced himself to do it. He needed to get a hold of himself, and he needed to do it soon, because no matter what his mind tried to convince him of, Allen would _not_ be okay with that, Allen was _straight,_ he loved women, married women…   


_Divorced women._ His mind supplied, and fuck — what was he going to do.   


Michael threw on the tap and splashed some cold water on his face before filling the ice trays, which he should have done earlier, and carrying them to the freezer, grabbing the second ice pack.  


When he returned to the room Allen was still sitting on the bed, but now the icepack sat unused on the bed, condensation creating a damp spot, but that didn’t worry Michael; what worried Michael was the was Allen was slumped in on himself, face screwed up in pain, head resting in his uninjured hand.   


“Allen?” Michael asked walking closer and setting the second ice pack down next to the first. Allen didn’t move, didn’t even show any signs of hearing him. “What’s wrong?”   


“Head,” Allen mumbled through clenched teeth. Michael hit his knees in front of him.   


“Allen I need you to look at me,” Michael prompted the pained man in front of him, Allen shook his head lightly then stopped when it only caused more pain. “Allen, babe, come on, I need to make sure you’re alright.”   


Michael waited for a moment, and eventually, Allen looked up, his eyes flickering all over Michael’s face, pupils too constricted for the soft light in the room. Michael sucked in a breath and held up a finger between them.   


“Can you follow my finger with your eyes, love?” He started to move his finger, first to the left, then to the right. He could tell Allen was trying his hardest, but his eyes continued to flicker. “Is your vision a little dark?” It took Allen a beat too long to process the question, then he nodded. “Okay, Allen, I need you to lie back okay? Come on,” Michael said, directing him to lie against the pillows, “I’ll be right back, sweetheart, just gotta find something, don’t move too much.” He told Allen, patting his arm, once again too distressed to recognize the pet names that came so easily around Allen were being said aloud.   


Michael rushed into the kitchen and started to dig around in drawers until his hand met a heavy metal flashlight. He walked quickly back to the bedroom asking himself why he didn’t catch this sooner, why it was just presenting now.   


_There’s nothing more you could have done than what you’re doing now._ His mind told him, for once on Michael’s side instead of working against him. He reached the room just as Allen was starting to doze off. He placed a hand on Allen’s leg, shaking him slightly.   


“Don’t fall asleep just yet, babe, gotta check something first,” Michael told him and Allen’s eyes reopened. “This may be a little bright, okay?” Michael switched on the flashlight, directing it into Allen’s eyes before an answer came.   


Allen didn’t wince at the brightness, didn’t hiss or close his eyes against the light, a Michael saw why immediately — his pupils were extremely constricted, far more than they had been before, and far more than they should have been since Allen had just had his eyes closed. Michael held his breath until, finally, they began to expand. He took the light away for a moment before shining it back into his eyes again to see Allen’s pupils had expanded further and were slowly, but surely, shrinking again to limit the light from the flashlight. Michael flipped the switched and dropped the light to the ground, it thumbed and rolled, probably under the bed, but Michael could find it later.   


“I think you’ve got a concussion Allen,” Michael told the other man, but his eyes were already closing again, “not too bad, but definitely not great.” Allen yawned.   


“Does that mean I can’t sleep?” He asked, not bothering to open his eyes.  


“Go to sleep, babe, I’ll finish fixing you up and wake you in about two hours, if you can talk to me then you can go back to sleep,” Michael told him, petting his hair away from his forehead, Allen nodded and pressed up into his hand.   


“How do you know all this stuff?” Allen asked, Michael couldn’t even tell if he was still really awake.   


“Mom taught me, she was a nurse,” Michael told him, watching as sleep finally gripped the other man and pulled him under. Michael couldn’t help himself, he leaned in and kissed Allen’s forehead. “You’ll be alright,” Michael whispered into Allen’s ear, “I’ll make sure of it.” He didn’t know if he was assuring Allen, or himself, but considering one of them was asleep…   


*****

Michael did as he said he would, softly rubbed the creams into the cuts and bruises on Allen’s body before pulling the blanket over him. He set the alarm for 6:00 a.m. before collapsing next to Allen and following him into a deep sleep.   


*****

At 6 a.m. the beeping of an alarm clock woke Michael up, and Michael woke Allen. He asked him how he was, asked him if he remembered the place he left his telescope, then, just before he let Allen fall back asleep he fixed him a serious look.  


“Next time you go hunting for a new stargazing spot, do us both a favor, and take me with you,” Michael told Allen.  


Allen shot him a sleepy smile, nodding and falling back asleep.  


*****


	4. How to Break a Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen heals and Michael decides its time to teach him how to break a hold  
> (trigger warning - undetailed, brief panic attack. Take care of yourselves my loves)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES BITCH IM BACK AFTER, WHAT, FOUR MONTHS? Who knows but I'm here and IT'S FINISHED!!! I hope you all enjoy, leave a comment and let me know what you think :)   
> Once again trigger warning for a brief panic attack.  
> Also, massive thanks to my girl Haley (@hotwheels_kin) for stepping up and beta-ing while the lovely Brahe is MIA (I hope you're having a fun trip my guy!) that shit help tons and you all should go check out her fic Moon in your Mouth, it's great :)   
> Enjoy!  
> -Cody Helene :)  
> p.s the new chapter is going up in two parts bc I want it to jsyk

Michael gave them a whole month off, which, honestly, wasn’t really necessary. Allen’s concussion would have healed in about a week and a half, his arm would take far longer, but, if Michael remembered correctly, he could start using it again after two weeks. That didn’t matter though. He would have given them the three months it would take for Allen’s shoulder to fully heal if he thought he could do so without Allen pestering him constantly. Michael sighed and pushed open the door to the locker room.   


Allen was waiting for him inside, just like always, and Michael smiled at him and kicked off his boots. He didn’t even bother to lace them properly when he left the house before their lessons anymore, not when he knew he’d be taking them off within the hour.   


“What are we going to do today?” Allen asked, breaking the silence first. Michael ran a hand over his face, both in exasperation and to hide the — surly lovesick — smile that had worked its way onto his face.   


“I think it’s time I teach you how to break a hold.” Allen, who had been buzzing with energy until that point, curled into himself slightly on the bench, fingers fiddling in his lap, eyes dropping to his feet. Michael could sense the nervousness radiating off of him.  


“Can you teach me something else?” Allen asked, voice startlingly quiet and withdrawn, almost like he was afraid to ask, and Michael desperately wanted to say yes, just to rid himself of the fear that was lacing Allen’s every movement. But he couldn’t. Michael shook his head even though Allen wasn’t looking at him.  


“I can’t send you out there again without you knowing what to do if someone grabs you, ba-” _Babe..._ Micheal cut off, barely catching himself before the pet name slipped out of his mouth. He hadn’t caught himself last time when Allen had shown up at his house in the middle of the night, beaten and bruised. But this time he would have no excuse if he let it pass through his lips. Before he could have claimed that he was exhausted or worried, or that it had just felt right while he was taking care of Allen like that.  


Okay maybe not the last one, he wasn’t sure what Allen would do if Michael told him it _‘just felt right,’_ to call him babe, and sweetheart, and love… Laugh, probably. Punch him maybe.   


“Doc.” He finished lamely, averting his eyes when Allen looked up, the expression on his face making it clear that he had caught Michael’s mistake. Allen opened his mouth to say something, but Michael jumped to speak again. “We’ll go slow, if you want to stop we stop, no questions asked.” He promised, not daring to look at Allen, choosing instead to rummage through his bag for nothing in particular.   


“Okay,” Allen stated, pushing up to stand, his eyes burning into Michael’s back as he zipped his bag.   


“Okay,” Michael replied, he walked to the door opening it for them, but Allen stayed planted in his place, a curious look about him.   


“Did you find what you were looking for?” He asked nodding to Michael’s bag, and Michael felt a blush rising on his face, turning quickly to hide it.   


“Nah, must’a forgotten it at home.” He shrugged and walked out the door, leaving Allen to follow.   


*****

“Okay, we’ll start off easy,” Michael said once they were both standing, facing each other, in the middle of the room. He held out his right arm to Allen. “Grab my wrist.” He ordered.   


Allen looked at him hesitantly but did as he said, securing his hand around Michael’s wrist lightly. Michael rolled his eyes.   


“Tighter, you’re not going to hurt me.” Michael smiled when Allen tightened his grip and nodded. “Perfect. Okay, so this is simple. All you do is rotate in,” Michael said, turning his hand so that his wrist is facing the empty space between them, “and over.” He moves faster, forcing Allen to let go. “Your opponent either had to let go or let you break their wrist, it’s up to them.” He joked and Allen laughed lightly, though he was obviously still nervous for the day to come.   


“Alright, from there you can either pull back and square up, or” Michael continued, holding out his wrist again for Allen so he could show him what to do next. He rotated again, this time until Allen’s arm was folded behind his back, applying just enough pressure to show Allen how much damage he could do and to stop the man from struggling, but not enough to harm him. Allen gasped lightly. “An arm lock. Try to get free.” Michael ordered.   


Allen’s response came fast as he wiggled frantically, panicking as Michael applied more pressure each time he got close to breaking the hold. Michael shook his head.   


“Notice how close I am right now to breaking your arm, any counter move you make all I have to do is-” Michael pressed down quickly, showing Allen rather than telling him, but not hard enough to draw anything more than a whimper from the other man. “Focus on the arm, Allen, people start to panic and lose their heads. Keep that big brain of yours calm, what can you do to stop me from breaking your arm?” Michael was leading him, trying to let Allen figure this one out on his own. He wasn’t completely sure why, but something in him wanted to see the doctor figure it out on his own, Michael knew he could after all.   


Allen’s free arm came up, bracing on his captured wrist and pressing down. Michael smiled slightly.   


“Good. Now your arm is stabilized, how do you respond?” Allen hesitated for only a minute before hesitantly raising his foot and placing it gently on Michael’s, obviously unsure of his choice. Michael could feel the muscles shifting beneath Allen’s thin shirt, couldn’t help himself from imagining what they’d feel like, bare, under his hands. He breathed heavily. “Perfect, Doc, there are other soft spots to go for as well,” Michael said, releasing Allen, needing a little distance between their bodies.   


Allen turned to face him, a questioning look on his face, and Michael smiled at his doctor, always so eager to learn. _Not yours._ He reminded himself.   


“Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin.” Michael recited, gesturing to each corresponding part of his body as he went. “But in that situation, you made the right decision, it would be hard landing a solid hit on any of the others. After that, though, your opponent probably will still have you. The next step would usually be an elbow to the head, but go with what feels right, okay? Trust your instincts.” Michael insisted, holding Allen’s eye until the doctor nodded.   


“Okay.” And Michael smiled again before nodding to the water cooler in the corner.   


“Take a break, get some water, and then we’ll move onto body holds like the one that dick had you in,” Michael said, not missing the way Allen swallowed deeply and bit his lip. In all fairness though, Michael never missed it when Allen bit his lip. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, they’re all pretty easy to break from,” Michael assured, patting Allen’s back, and, okay, maybe it the nickname had slipped out _one more time._   


But as Allen’s shoulders relaxed and he took a deep breath, Michael couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.   


*****

_This is how I’m going to die._ Michael thought to himself as he watched Allen walk back over. The doctor was nervous, Michael could see it written all over his face, and this wasn’t fair. Michael just wanted to save them both the trouble and break here for the day, send the doc home. Yeah, that’s a good idea -- Michael could keep himself from having a heart attack and, better yet, get that look off of Allen’s face. He didn’t like seeing the doc so withdrawn, reverted back to the man he was when the two originally became partners, back before he trusted Michael.   


“You know what?” Michael said making up his mind, the final straw had been when Allen jumped at the sound of his voice. “Why don’t we stop here, I can teach you the rest another day.” _Or never._ But Allen shook his head frantically, eyes wide.   


“No, no, I need to learn this. I’m fine,” Michael could see that he very much wasn’t fine, but he had never been very good at saying no to the other man. Michael sighed.   


“Fine, but you tell me if you need a break, doc, we don’t need you more traumatized than you already are,” Michael said with a smile only half joking. Allen let out a breathy laugh, obviously as entertained by the joke as Michael had been about extra reps back in his training days, and muttered a quiet agreement. “Alrighty then, let’s start.”   


Michael had Allen stand behind him, instructing him to grab him the way the man had held Allen, and, wow, was Michael going to regret this. Michael tried to clear his mind as Allen gripped him tightly, arms wound around his waist trapping Michael’s arms at his sides, Allen’s front pressed completely to his back. He took a deep breath.   


“In this situation, you did the right thing. Stomp,” Michael started, dropping his foot next to Allen’s instead of on top, still not wanting to hurt the man, “and as you do, lift your arms out to break.” Michael spun away, dropping into his fighting stance. “Then square up, or run away. In fact, let’s just say run away” Michael finished, watching Allen watch him.   


“That’s it?”   


Michael cleared his throat, righting his posture. “Yes?”  


“I was expecting something a little more… Advanced.” Allen said, gesturing with his hands.   


“What, like a headbutt?” Michael said with a laugh, the doctor blushed lightly and Michael barely had the self-control not to reach out a touch, tap his cheek or run his fingers through Allen’s curly hair. Michael was starting to think that the man was inevitable, continuously pulling him in and it was getting harder for Michael to fight. Michael shook himself. “Sometimes the best tactics are the most simple,” Michael assured and Allen nodded. Michael smiled at him, maybe a little too endearingly. “You ready to give it a try?”   


And that was how Michael found himself, arms full of the man he felt a little too strongly for. He anchored his hands, holding Allen fast to his chest. With the close contact, it took Michael less than a second to notice the change in Allen’s breathing, the way his wracked through his body as his lungs strained. He felt Allens clench his fists, the tightening of the man’s arm muscles, the heaviness set into his body. Michael pressed closer, hooking his chin over the doctor’s shoulder and brushing his lips against his ear.   


“Breathe, Allen,” Michael whispered, trying to stop the panic attack before it cemented it’s hold over Allen, “I’m here, you're safe, okay?” He whispered, Allen nodded. “Remember your soft spots, love.”   


Michael loosened his grip slightly, resting his head on Allen’s shoulder as the man relaxed slightly, his breathing began to steady.   


“Can you repeat them for me, Allen?” Allen nodded again.  


“Solar plexus,” Allen started, voice unsteady, “instep, nose, groin.”   


“Good,” Michael gave him a slight squeeze, “now, which one would you choose,”   


“Instep.” Allen’s voice came stronger now as he placed his foot on top of Michael’s.  


“What next, doc?” Michael whispered, Allen lifted his arms easily breaking Michael’s loose grip. He stepped away, immediately sinking to the floor. Michael squatted in front of him, resting a hand on one of Allen’s drawn up knees. Allen didn’t look at him. Michael sighed.  


“Talk to me, Allen.” But Allen shook his head.   


“What is there to say?” Allen asked rhetorically. Michael decided to answer anyway.   


“That you started to have a panic attack, you worked through it, and you broke the hold. You did it.” Allen looked up and Michael was startled to see the tears pooling in his eyes.   


“No, Michael, I didn’t. I was fine because it was _you,_ and you’re always-” Allen cut himself off as a tear slipped from his eye. Michael dropped to his knees, bringing his free hand up to cup Allen’s face, just as he wanted to do earlier. It wasn’t the same now, now Michael was wiping away tears instead of feeling the heat of a blush.   


“I’m always what, Allen?” Michael pushed, unable to help himself. Allen leaned his head into Michael’s hand making Michael’s heart stutter.  


“Saving me, you're always there to save me.” And forget stuttering, Michael’s heart stopped at those words, he fought to hold back a smile, now was not the time.   


“Yeah, babe, I’ll be there to save you, but sometimes I’ll need you to hold ‘em off ‘til I can get there,” Michael told him, his hand squeezing lightly at Allen’s knee, “okay?”   


Allen looked up at him through watery eyes and nodded his head. “Okay.” Michael finally let his smile show.   


“Alright, do you want to try again? Or do you want to call it a day.”  


*****


	5. How to Protect your Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen shows up at Michael's again, this time with his telescope (even though Michael promised he would get it), a black eye, and an elevated level of bravery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO AND WELCOME TO THE END! I hope you all have enjoyed so far, but unfortunately, this is it for this fic (for now at least). Once again, thank you all for sticking with me and a massive thanks to @hotwheels_kin for the beta.   
> Leave a comment and let me know if you enjoyed it :)  
> THANK YOU ALL!!!  
> -Cody Helene :)

They ended up stopping then, Allen exhausted and Michael ready to put a little bit of distance between himself and the doctor. He was ready for a breather after being alone with Allen for around an hour, sweaty bodies pressed together. It was hard enough to breathe when the doctor was around fully clothed and presentable, let alone with heavy breath, close against Michael’s chest.   


Michael huffed out a breath as he closed his door behind him, a long day at work after Allen’s training had left him exhausted. His head fell back against the wall.   


Dinner and a scotch, that’s what he needed. He put some water on to boil and poured himself a drink before collapsing on the couch, spreading himself out.  


His eyes were closed long before he heard the bubbles start to roll.   


*****

A knocking at his door drew Michael from his sleep. He rubbed at his eyes, looking to the bedside table to check the time before remembering he had dozed off on his couch.  


He groaned and sat up, wincing when his back cracked while he stretched.  


_Getting to old to sleep on the damn couch._ He closed his eyes again as the smell of gas finally reached his nose.   


_“Fuck!”_ Michael yelled, springing from the couch and bounding to the kitchen. The knocking on the door continued, growing more frantic but Michael was more concerned with his still active stove top. He killed the gas, watching as the flame flickered, taking in the mess of overboiled water pooling on his stovetop. “Deal with it later.” He said to the kitchen, slinging a dish towel over his shoulder as he finally made his way to the door.   


He opened the door seeing nothing but what the streetlights allowed him with their slight glow. It had grown dark as he slept, but he could still make out the shape of his doctor. He furrowed his eyebrows.   


“Allen? What are you-” He was cut off as Allen pushed them both inside, slamming the door hard enough to alert the entire neighborhood. Michael’s back hit the wall as Allen leaned against him. “Allen, what’s going on?” He whispered.  


Michael had flicked the lamp on in the living room when he had woken up, it was by that light that Michael made out Allen’s face when the man looked up. A sick sense of déjà vu twisted in Michael’s gut as he saw the purple bruising around Allen’s eye.   


“What happened this time?” Michael asked, tilting Allen’s chin up to get a better look as the doctor leaned against him. “Another moonlit galavant?” Allen shook his head and, much to Michael’s surprise, smiled.   


“You should see the other guy.” Michael couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, remembering that he had said much the same the first time Allen had shown up, bloody and bruised at his door.   


“I oughta just get you a key if you’re going to keep on doing this,” and Allen’s smile widened.  


“I got lucky this time, there was just one of them,” Allen said looking down at his arms, and Michael just then realized that Allen was holding something. His telescope.   


“Allen, you did not,” Michael said, unable to keep the begging tone from his voice, but when Allen looked up at him a proud light in his eyes, Michael just couldn’t chastise him for the irresponsibility.   


Allen nodded, stepping out of Michael’s grasp and holding up his prize. “I very much did, and I was successful too.” Michael couldn’t help it, he laughed as he took in the proud man — oversized telescope unwieldy in his arms, hair ruffled, eye blackened. It took less than ten seconds for Allen’s laugh to join his.   


Allen placed his telescope down, leaning into Michael again as his breath became short, resting his forehead against Michael’s shoulder. He struggled to take a deep breath.  


“And now I’m feeling brave.” Allen’s voice eventually came, he lifted his eyes to Michael’s, slowly bringing his right hand up to rest on Michael’s unoccupied shoulder. Michael’s breath caught in his throat, he didn’t know what was happening but there was something different about Allen, something different in the air between them.   


“Is that so?” Michael asked his voice low, not wanting to break whatever this was. Allen nodded, humming, his free hand reaching to tangle in Michael’s hair, and Michael didn’t know what to do. His hands rested lightly on Allen’s hips, should he push him away, make up an excuse about cleaning his mess in the kitchen? He should. But he didn’t want to.   


Instead, he stood still as Allen pressed closer, as Allen pulled his head down, tugging at his hair, as Allen’s lips met his. Michael drew in a sharp breath, finally cast out of his stupor, one hand moving up Allen’s back to pull him against Michael’s chest, the other dropping lower, his thumb rubbing circles on Allen’s hip. He felt Allen smile against his lips, now leaning fully against Michael, collapsed into him.   


Allen pulled away, his smile too wide to continue anymore. Michael wasn’t faring much better, as his bit his lip, eyes dancing over Allen’s face, taking the man in.   


“Allen, I-” Michael started, but he was interrupted by the pounding at the door.  


Two heads snapped to watch the door as it shook slightly on its hinges.   


“They must have recognized my car, I parked out front,” Allen muttered and Michael nodded sharply.   


“Go to the kitchen.” He ordered, not surprised at all when Allen rolled his eyes. Michael sighed as the other man stood rooted in his place. “Allen, please.” And Allen’s resolve melted as he stared at Michael. He drew back, grabbing his telescope.   


“Fine, but I’m not happy about it.” The pounding got louder, but Michael paid it no mind, instead, watching Allen slink down the hall.  


“You wouldn’t be you if you were happy about it, Allen.” He called to the doctor’s retreating back. Allen flashed him a smile over his shoulder, finally disappearing around the corner. Michael sighed and pushed off the wall. He straightened out his uniform, glad he hadn’t changed out of it before passing out on the couch, and combed his fingers through his hair.   


Then he pulled the door open.   


Allen had been right, Michael was pleased to learn as he looked at the bruised man before him. Michael did have to see the other guy because he wouldn’t have believed this any other way.   


“Can I help you?” Michael asked politely, but his voice dropped into his captain’s voice, one that was anything but friendly. The man eyed him warily.   


“I’m, er, looking for a man, about your height, graying hair, black eye?” He stuttered. Michael leaned against the door seemingly relaxed, a cat’s smile on his lips.   


“It’s rude not to know the name of the man you nearly killed, you know,” Michael blinked slowly, head tilting to rest against the door. The man’s eyes widened “I don’t believe such an improper man as yourself should be able to see my doctor.”  


“Y-your?” The man asked, Michael rolled his eyes.  


“Yes, _my_ doctor. Now, what is it you want with him?” The man seemed to search his head for a good response.  


“Just wanted to have a little conversation is all.” He said and Michael nearly rolled his eyes a second time. He pushed off the door, stepping closer to the stranger.   


“Well, why don’t you pass the message through me and I’ll make sure it gets to him.” He growled, the man stumbled backward, shaking his head.   


“No that’s alright, thank you, maybe another time, then.” He said spinning on his heal, Michael grabbed his shoulder, yanking him closer.   


“Oh, I don’t think so. Look at him again and I’ll be the one you _talk to_ next.” Michael whispered to him, shoving him forward and watching as he stumbled down the steps, jumped in his car, and drove away, headlights out even as he disappeared around the corner. Michael sighed, weariness setting into his bones.   


Now to make sure your doctor _will_ be your doctor.   


*****

Michael found Allen settling into one of his kitchen chairs, obviously having just sat down.   


“Were you listening?” Michael asked, exasperated, glancing between the kitchen entrance and Allen. Allen shrugged.   


“I’m not for violence, Michael,” Allen said, a smirk growing on his face, “but there is something about you threatening people for me that is just…” He cut himself off shaking his head fondly. Michael rolled his eyes.   


“Next time I tell you to stay in the kitchen, please stay in the kitchen.” Now Allen rolled his eyes making Michael take a deep breath, attempting to collect himself. He walked closer to Allen, perching on the table in front of his pulled out chair. Allen rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, most likely readying himself for a lecture. “He could have had a gun, he could have done anything. _Allen,_ we don’t know that man, he’s unpredictable.” He reached forward, lifting a hand to fix Allen’s skewed glasses then resting the hand on the side of the doctor’s neck just because he could. Michael didn’t want to hold back any longer. “I like you being around unpredictables.” His deep voice resonated in his chest.   


Allen stood, his hand on Michaels, not letting it drop from its place on his neck. “You’re the predictable one, Michael,” he said, positioning himself between Michael’s spread legs, “you’ll keep me safe because it’s what you do.” Michael’s freehand lifted, his fingers skirting the edges of Allen’s black eye.   


“And what about this?” Allen smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.   


“That was me holding them off until you were there.” Allen said, quoting Michael’s words back at him. He leaned forward until his lips brushed Michael’s once again. _“Your_ doctor, hm?” He whispered, just loud enough for Michael to hear in their close proximity.   


“Yeah,” Michael replied, now clutching at the side of Allen’s neck, “be mine?”   


Allen didn't answer, just sprung forward and closed the gap between them and Michael decided that that was enough of a yes for now.   


Michael didn’t realize until a few minutes later as the doctor — _his_ doctor — was wincing away that his fingers were still pressed into the bruise on Allen’s face.  


“Sorry, sorry, let me get you some ice for that,” Michael said trying to push Allen away, but he didn’t budge.   


“It’s fine, just don’t press on it,” Allen replied and Michael nodded with a smile, brushing Allen’s hair back and away from the black eye.  


“I hate to think what would have happened if I hadn’t opened the door soon enough.” Michael could see that Allen was about to protest, about to say _‘nothing would have happened,’_ or _‘I would have been fine,”_ so he shut him up with another kiss, pulling away a second later, just far enough to murmur: “I guess I’ll have to see about that key then.”  


*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah and now it is time for us to part. I just wanted to say thank you once again for reading this and not getting upset when I didn't post for months. I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you all had as much fun as I did.  
> Now for the final time - this is Cody Helene, signing off :)

**Author's Note:**

> That's all for now, folks! Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you enjoyed it!  
> -Cody Helene


End file.
